SIKH TEMPLE FEEDS THOUSANDS DAILY

New Delhi, India

Travel in its purest form has the capacity to change who you are and impact your soul, deep, penetrating, in ways unforeseen.  Sure when you journey, there are exciting moments of awe at iconic locations, places you’ve always dreamed of seeing, beauties that can take your breath away, but the most impactful experiences that carry true power are those that inspire your humanity and move you to action.  These are the rare, the precious that you measure your place on the planet, that leave a mark, a before and after. These are stories that words may fail for they are not merely told but must be sensed deeply & intently by the heart when it is open. This is such a story…

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I was so very curious & excited to “visit” Gurudwara Bangla Sahib.  Our day in Delhi carried a very full itinerary so my expectation for the 8 a.m. stop was a focused walk through/around with some history, architecture, an introduction to the basic theology and hopefully an opportunity to observe respectfully a service or worship.  So, upon arrival when we were ushered into a small side room with long benches, asked to remove our shoes and given orange bandannas (my favorite color) to cover our head, I was delighted and rather intrigued.  “Oooo, where IS this going?”, I thought. 

We walked, barefoot, on cool white marble down a long hallway lined with smoky windows on one side revealing a very large empty room where two people were mopping opposite sides of the space. We passed through a covered, yet surprisingly clean alleyway within the building that held several large piles of random fresh vegetables… carrots, cabbage, cauliflower and potatoes.  How strange. Unexpected, but perhaps we’re coming in the back door, I thought…

Then I saw the others. A weathered man and an older woman on chairs each taking handfuls from the alley vegetable piles taller than they and wider than a car skillfully removing leaves and peels with paring knives then placing what remained in a wheelbarrow. Somehow the timing was right, they looked up, smiled with their eyes then went back to work. My curiosity was raging and I was having such a lovely time.

Around the next corner, sitting on the floor, a woman monitoring a large stainless steel machine spitting out flat bread didn’t seem nearly as thrilled as my veggie peeps to have 20 American tourists file past her work station. In front of her was a massive basket filled with hundreds (perhaps thousands?) of the round chapati and on past her, our group had entered the large main section of this community kitchen with its 3 sections. There were women and men busily occupied at various stations. I began feeling rather self conscious, a bit concerned we may be in the way of their work when our guide asked if anyone wanted to help.

The invitation was music to my ears! I was so grateful to participate and sat cross leg on the stone floor, sweetly welcomed by a tall gentle woman who sat across from me on a stool while I attempted rather awkwardly to roll the soft dough with a small wooden pin. This station was a long stone flour crusted surface where white dough balls were worked into flat rounds so they could progress to large flat hot griddles to be fried dozens at a time till those delicious dark brown charred circles form. More industrious volunteers in scarves and turbans sat around coal heated griddles with long metal turning sticks turning the dozens of chapati one by one.

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There were rows of large narrow necked cauldrons suspended over flames and in the far section of the kitchen under tall ceilings men standing atop platforms above more open flames using paddles to stir huge flat pots of steaming rice or monstrous sized vats of curried soups boiling. I was struck by their bravery, by their tenacity, and immediately wanted to see how the hell they would move that hot bubbling liquid safely (later saw some wheeled dollies…whew)! I had a little commercial kitchen of my own for over 20 years and shuddered at the thought of my cook, Tony, maneuvering above a pot such as what I was seeing. I marveled at what I was observing, in awe. 

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The third section had large arched windows connecting the kitchen to the great open dining room we had walked past earlier.  Each window was configured with a pass-through counter area opening where metal handled buckets were filled from the cooking vats in the kitchen for distribution.

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It was early so the massive dining room was nearly empty (at later sittings the room is full to the brim).  Two long dark rugs ran the length of the white marble room and about 30 people sat on the floor in a line, men and women, some with a Sikh turban, some with a bandanna, all barefoot with a clean empty metal tray.  A smiling man had a basket of cups, and 2 others with buckets of soup from the kitchen window …again an opportunity to help was given and the rest of our time spent at this section of the temple I had the special meaningful privilege of serving those who came for a meal. How grateful I am for that precious time and wish it could have been longer. I really, very much liked the smiling cup man…

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Through the course of the tour, we learned about the Sikh teachings, about Langar, the commitment to equality, a rejection of the caste system. Our lovely hostess explained no one is ever turned away, everyone is welcome, provided a meal regardless of income, religion, gender.  All sit together, all are expected to help in one way or another at some point, and the beauty of the volunteers is that there could be a rich business owner mopping the floor working next to a woman who may live in a modest shack helping to serve bread to the many sitting on the floor. No one knows who is who…there in lies the beauty, the humility, the peace, the humanity. 

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From the dining room we climbed a beautiful white stairway outside that led to the large open courtyard and we were facing the magnificent temple exterior we saw earlier from the street with its large tower and beautiful round gold crown. People were congregating at the covered entrance doorway to the sanctuary and we joined them.

Inside the a grand hallway, the white marble was embellished with jeweled inlay-ed florals, and led to a central area filled with rich velvet cushions framed by gold columns and topped with a gold arch bedangled with more gold embellishments. Turban topped men sat in the center, the Gurus, speaking prayers into microphones and worshipers were filing past, many bowing in respect.  There were elegant rich red draperies hung in the rear of where they sat and larger red square heavy draperies hung from the high ceiling above the arch with gold fringe and ropes. And there was gold, gold arches, gold domes gold trimming in the ceiling. It was reflecting shiny bedazzle everywhere you looked.

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We were blessed to complete a tour of the worship area to the temple.  It was beautiful, sweet to watch the devotion of those who came to worship and once they paid tribute at this position, the Sikh followers moved further to the right down a hall to several additional devotion sites where the shine turned to silver. 

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Outside we found the long white steps leading to the expansive pool of water on the far side of the courtyard filling the wide white space from the back side of the large angular temple building to the front street side of the courtyard. Early in the morning the space is calm, empty and serene… not a better ending could be had for our deeply moving exceptional morning at Sri Bangla Sahib Gurudwara.

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Many were outside the temple, both the young, the old. And there was a warmth and welcome for tall white foreign visitors that morning in January.

Now, whenever I see a man with a distinguished carefully wrapped turban (and I don’t see it often enough) and I recognize that same quiet strong confidence I saw from those caring, serving others that bright morning in New Delhi, I will understand who he is.  He is a Sikh and I smile knowing his hair is long and flowing beneath the rich folds of fabric. I will warmly remember how much I learned from his temple in New Delhi, how very moved I was at the efficiency, generosity and humanity of his team of volunteers, their daily labors and the admiration I felt watching this monumental task unfold realizing it is repeated every day, day after day, all day, as a free gift to thousands, and accomplished by many, working together who are committed to equality with no respect of status, wealth, gender or religion. I will recall my tears of humility and gratitude I just couldn’t hold back, that caused me to take significant pause… to realize I, nor my colleagues at home, had the corner on the market of compassionate service. Here at the very first stop of my India tour, the very first day seeing the moon shine on the other side of the world, I received a powerful lesson, taught by giants of humanity, instructed beyond my imagination by actions of a community uniting to do something real and impactful.  I committed that day that when I returned home to my own community, I would somehow do what I could, to do the same.  But, I will always, always fall short of the astonishing awe-inspiring wondrous feeding of the thousands at Delhi’s brilliant white Sikh Temple.